


Kinky Boots

by comeoutcomeout



Category: British Comics RPF, Goth Detectives, The Mighty Boosh RPF
Genre: Kink, M/M, Object Penetration, Shoe Kink, Shoes
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2010-03-07
Updated: 2010-03-07
Packaged: 2017-10-07 18:59:51
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,583
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/68186
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/comeoutcomeout/pseuds/comeoutcomeout
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Written for an anonymous kink meme with prompts for the pairing and for "boot!kink".</p>
            </blockquote>





	Kinky Boots

"Cut!" A collective breath was let out on set. "Everyone take twenty," Paul King called and the cast and crew of The Mighty Boosh sauntered off into carparks and corridors. Noel poked his bottom lip out and blew cool air up his face, fluffing his fringe. He peeled his silver jumpsuit over slender shoulders and shrugged it down to his waist as he moved briskly off the sound stage. It was an average autumn in London, but Noel was weathering the tail end of an inconvenient flu; his skin was feverishly hot. A droplet of sweat cascaded from behind his right ear, down his neck- chest- stomach and disappeared into the dark trail of hair below his navel.

A distant soundtrack of the 'Pink Elephants on Parade' song played in Noel's head and the chestnut stacked heels of his white boots clicked in time down the echoey concrete hall. He entered a dressing room where the ceiling fan whirred at full speed and crumpled down onto the worn, brown carpet. He closed his eyes and splayed his fingers through the pile, thinking of Crayola colours. "_Burnt Sienna_," he mumbled.

"More _Raw Umber_, I thought," came the unexpected reply. Noel was propped upright on his wrists in a flash, one knee drawn instinctively towards his bare chest.  
"Russell?!"  
"I was just passing through." Russell Brand uncrossed and recrossed his long legs at the ankle, showing off tight grey jeans and black cowboy boots. He was reclined casually into an armchair against the far wall of the room, facing Noel.

Noel exhaled with a weak cough and relaxed his drawn leg flat again, letting his feet come to rest just to either side of Russell's. He played subconsciously with a tendril of his black mane to fill the pause. Flirtation was second nature to Noel Fielding.

"You're still unwell?" Russell asked. There was sincerity in his voice; he was only partly marking time.  
"Kind of." Noel ran a palm up his forehead, then swirled his sweat-damp hand into the hair on the back of his head. Russell watched pale skin pull back and forth across the curve of Noel's clavicle; mapped the matted hair of his underarm. He uncrossed his feet and slid one black-booted foot slowly over the carpet until his heel met the white leather on Noel's calf. Noel dropped his head for just a second, then lifted his luminous blue eyes to meet Russell's brown and licked his lips. Russell's cock twitched.

Russell and Noel had played like this a couple of times before. Neither wanted to shag the other in any actual way – and Russell wouldn't even return a kiss – but a hand traced up an inner thigh and ghosted over a groin under the desk on a panel show, that was inevitable. Two performers, each circling dangerously close to the other's territory – such games were tests and challenges. 'Chicken' with an added hormone rush.

Noel sank slowly back down into the carpet, revealing abdominal muscles as he went. His jumpsuit slipped a little lower, pointy hipbones guiding vision in towards a tease of dark pubic hair. Russell toed tentatively at the inside of Noel's knee and met no argument, so he slid the worn-smooth sole of his boot slowly up Noel's skinny thigh. Russell reached a hipbone and leaned forward in the armchair to press down, as if stubbing out a cigarette on the sidewalk. Noel drew a shallow breath through his teeth at the twist of his skin.

"You know you should get men's shoes, Noel," Russell said with a smirk as he dragged his toe down Noel's thigh and up again.  
"I've got!" Noel protested.  
"Purple suede doesn't count." Noel's toes fell in towards each other as Russell traced across his bare, concave stomach. Noel lifted an arm and stretched his fingertips out to dotingly trace the pattern of white embroidery on the front of Russell's boots.

It was only as Russell put half his weight on Noel's stomach and stood up that Noel realised he'd forgotten to breathe a moment. Russell cast a long shadow over all of Noel's body below him, backlit by a row of high windows. He imagined his reflection in the wide blue eyes that held his gaze and swooped one bent arm around and across his head, rearranging and flattening dark hair. He looked down to where his foot still marked his territory on Noel's stomach and inched it to hook his toe under a fold in the peeled-down jumpsuit. He stretched the silver Lycra and coaxed it just a short distance further down, freeing Noel's growing erection and allowing a glimpse of his dark scrotum. Russell swallowed like he had molasses on his tongue and Noel's hips raised involuntarily to the audible gulp.

With light pressure to keep his balance, Russell rubbed his smooth boot sole slowly along Noel's long cock, tracing the line of a pulsing vein. Noel breathed deep, filling his lungs with warm autumn and musty carpet, and rolled his shoulders against the floor. He was hard and the questions of who and how and why dissolved into the sensation; cool touch on hot flesh. Droplets of sweat had formed on Noel's feverish forehead and the breeze from the ceiling fan ran them down into his hair. Dizzying stars spun across the inside of his eyelids. He ground his hips without shame and moaned low and quiet in the back of his throat. Russell met Noel with increased pressure and gave a short, single laugh that unmistakably said 'Slut.' Noel peeled his eyes open and smouldered at Russell with a look that dared him to try to dislike it.

Russell rubbed his own cock through his jeans. It wasn't exactly a burning desire he felt, yet he wanted this encounter all the same. Noel fascinated him; not like a butterfly, but like something potentially dangerous. A succubus, perhaps. Russell wanted a chance to wield some control. He wasn't sure he had it, though, and rubbed himself again. His foot slipped down quickly over Noel's balls to the floor, pinching some of the supple skin. Noel cried out, mouth open wide, and Russell released him quickly, but didn't fail to notice the bead of precome that appeared at the top of Noel's cock and rolled tantalisingly down the head. Noel exhaled a shaky mew and the corners of Russell's mouth curled up.

Resting his teasing foot back flat on the carpet, he slid the pointed toe of his boot to touch Noel's perineum. Noel instinctively reached for his abandoned cock with a free hand, wrapping spidery fingers around and stroking. Russell drew circles on the sensitive pink skin and watched goosebumps raise on Noel's forearms. Noel breathed; loud, shallow and ragged. Russell dropped his toe down further and pressed in against Noel's entrance with a little twist, just to see how far he could go.  
"Yessssssss," hissed Noel, arching his spine, and he pushed back against the cool leather, drawing a knee up and hooking his heel in flush with Russell's for leverage. Russell's eyebrows raised high in surprise.  
'He's felt that before! He's _enjoyed_ that before!' Russell wondered whether it had been with his girlfriend Dee and hoped absurdly that it had been with Julian Barratt. He rolled his eyes back and massaged the bulge in his jeans harder.

"Ohhh...!" - it was shorthand for 'Please.' Noel ached to be filled. "Fuck! Oh, fuck... Nnngg..." He moaned and pulled the point of Russell's boot as far inside him as he could. One nimble hand worked fast on his cock. The fingernails of the other dug deep into the carpet. Russell watched Noel; watched his eyelids flutter under the damp fringe stuck to his forehead; watched as Noel's shoulders started to tremble. Shoulders, then chest, then hips. Noel inhaled in rapid bursts. Suddenly his whole body lurched, breath hitched in his throat. His balls contracted and he came in three strong spurts with a desperate gasp.

As his breathing calmed and his muscles relaxed, he slid his raised knee back down to the ground, letting his calf caress Russell's all the way. A remaining finger and thumb finally left his softening cock and he dropped two fingertips weakly into the pool of warm, sticky come on his stomach. He made a lazy finger painting as it dried and thought of brushing glue on his hand as a child – or dripping candle wax as a teen – peeling it off when it was dry. This must be the logical, adult progression.

Noel sensed Russell stepping back and over him and heard him readjust his still half-hard self in his jeans with a hummed sigh. Russell didn't mind walking away. This dalliance had been for him too, just in a different way.

He paused level with Noel's shoulders, able to stare right down on that sweaty, porcelain face. Noel didn't open his eyes; didn't want to invite that incongruous Essex accent into his afterglow. Russell lifted one foot and pushed the heel of his boot sharply onto Noel's throat, just below his Adam's Apple. Noel gagged and his eyes did spring open, catching Russell silhouetted in a dust mote. Russell saw shock; a hint of fear. A hint of lust. And he was pleased. He turned and left and hoped to see a fading, horseshoe-shaped bruise on Noel's neck come filming day for the Big Fat Quiz.

Outside, the rubber soles of a work experience girl's trainers squeaked in the hall. "Mr Fielding?"

**Author's Note:**

> It's nice to see the hitcount go up, but please please also consider leaving a comment...? Warm my heart :) Concrit also welcome.


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